


Genesis

by papyrocrat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papyrocrat/pseuds/papyrocrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fall from SPN-Lucifer’s perspective, loosely based on the backstory given throughout S5. Whatever, he’s the fucking Prince of Lies, go with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Religious themes, natch. Mentions of non-explicit sex (consensual, but with a highly unreliable narrator, so caution still advised). Won't make much sense without seeing SPN up through S5, but doesn't really spoil for anything except...the Book of Genesis. Sort of.

Time is undignified, he finds, it’s wasted and spent and nags at his ankles like a hungry animal, waiting to be filled and dying to slip away.

Their Father has dropped his eldest sons out of Heaven to marvel at his masterpiece. Their brothers, too young and weak yet to be exposed to the toxin of humankind, are in Heaven under Gabriel’s tutelage. The three of them pace the earth, promoted to the abasements of gravity and exile.

The humans are not to be harmed; He has made them promise. Strange, for He asks for so little; the Father may tell or turn away with equal ease.

They are dutiful sons and follow His example, and ask these apes for all but the ground beneath their strange corporeal feet. He does not know what this changes; they understand as little of archangels as do their uncles the fish and the grass.

But the humans are not to be harmed, and so when he desires the company of the most pleasing female, he asks.

“Does our Father will it?”

“He must,” he answers, “for all things are through Him.”

“And such things they are,” she says.

So they press through the garden, on two legs and then on four. Together they rejoice in creation, and Heaven becomes but memory.

She lays her head upon a bed of flowers, as useless and precious as her own humanity. He takes one out of the ground to see its soft beauty against that of her skin, and he calls them both _Lilith_.

“What is Lilith?”

“It is you, if you choose.” She folds her hand over his, and he tucks the flower into her hair. She wears the flower until she walks away from him under pale morning light. He lolls alone on the grass, slothful and sated, until his brother lies down next to him.

Michael wraps his hands behind himself and sighs in contentment. “This day is beautiful,” Michael says.

Gabriel loves all, and so is unimpressed with beauty or pain. Raphael cares for nothing but his awe at the strength of the Word. But he and Michael share the capricious twin bonds of love and fear, this world infecting them almost like breath.

“Can it be other than beautiful?” he asks, and pushes back terror at the answer.

“Of course not,” his brother says, as certain as the sea.

“Does that not make it common?”

“Maybe, but then it is all the more precious for its certainty.”

“But glory must shine above all else,” he says without thinking. “You must be wrong.”

Michael looks surprised then, and asks how he can be wrong, when disquiet is unholy and divinity eternal in its perfection.

He cannot explain, and so he learns silence and doubt alone. He tenses his wings against his back before holy wrath rains down upon his weakness, but his Father indulges him with silence.

But nothing changes for Michael, who stirs his hips before smiling faintly back at Heaven.

“Why must the sun set?” he asks his brother.

“Do not worry,” Michael says, “It will rise again.”

“I am not afraid,” he says. “No light can be hidden forever.”

Michael mistakes his certainty for courage and grows pleased. “You must always have this faith, brother.”

“I have knowledge. Is that so unlike faith?”

“Yes. You will come to understand in time.”

“I do understand.”

“Yes, of course you do,” Michael says with obvious indulgence.

“I _do_ ,” he insists, and goes off to watch the sun set with Lilith. She does not understand either, for she is but human, but she bucks and chafes against the limitation of her soul.

“I do not care for the dark,” she says.

“But the nighttime is God’s will, as is the day,” he says uncertainly.

“Then how can it be so empty?”

“I will fill your nights,” he offers. “For us they will always be as day.”

“Against His will?”

“He has made me the Light-Bringer. Surely it is His will.” And with his own hands he conquers the dark.

She promises to follow him.

“Forever?”

“As long as you burn, so shall I,” she swears, and from his palms spring the stars.

They are pleasing to him and to her, and so she grieves to leave him for Adam.

“Does he not give you joy?”

“Not like you do.”

He warms with pride. “I shall see if I may free you, so you can be with me always.”

But his brothers care not for her freedom or his joy, but draw tighter the leash of her humanity, subjugating him to the weakest of men.

“But why Adam?” he asks. “He is dull, and cares neither to reach for the heavens, nor dig into the Earth.”

“Exactly,” Raphael says. “With little will of his own, he may be ruled by ours.”

And yet, this fails. The brothers quarrel again, this time over the humans’ mating habits.

“She defies him,” Raphael booms like thunder.

"What does our Father say?" Michael asks.

"He hasn't said a word," he says, without disappointment, for who could expect Him to care about this? “Can we not make this conversation precedent?”

Michael winces in distaste. “We certainly hope not to hear of this again.”

“We cannot worry about the future,” Raphael says, “for we have forever, but we must concert our control of the now."

“Must we care about their petty quarrels?”

“I care not for their quarrels but for ours, brother. If she defies him, she may defy us, and we must have peace,” Michael says.

“Lilith would change this world, from divine Word to her own.”

“But may she not, Raphael? What good is their free will, if she is punished for choice?”

“It is so they may prove their devotion,” Michael says, ever faithful.

“Then how can we prove ours?”

“Ours may be assumed, brother, you know this.”

“Is it never to be valued as theirs?”

“No.” Michael’s unperturbed humility shames them all. “Ours came first, it is different.”

“First, but not best?”

“You sound like one of them,” Raphael says, and Lucifer shakes the world in his denial until Michael tears them apart.

They do not understand, he thinks. They stare like the sun, but do not wish to see.

And for this, they cast her out.

Lilith weeps from beyond the forest and calls to their Father, Who hears and does not deign to laugh.

But Lucifer cannot ignore her cries. She is lonely in her understanding, and so is he.

“There are children now.” The humans make more of themselves, playing at Godlike creation when they cannot bear to look upon His face. It is an abomination. “Persuade them to come unto me.”

“But how may we convince them to fall from paradise?”

“Give them the world,” he says, “for it is everything to them, though but dust and ashes to us, and then they too shall know.”

She promises once again, and together they turn the forest to ash and flame until he is called to heel.

“We have disappointed Him,” Michael says. “He has made a new woman, and she shall show her obedience to Him.”

“How? Through divinely-inspired sitting like a lump?”

“No. She shall be a mother, and love her children as our Father does us.”

"What love is that, Michael?" 

Michael has no answer.

They name her Eve after the fall of darkness, and Lucifer burns white with rage.

She is obedient, docile and sweet. Her children are strong and tame, and she abandons them to curl under the shade of her father’s favorite tree.

Her companionship would be almost better than nothing. “You should come out under the sun.”

She obliges, and offers him fruit of the vine across the field.

“Why not of this tree?” he asks, for it drips with apples, red as blood.

“We do not eat of this tree. It is forbidden.”

“But why?”

She blinks back at him with the cool brown stare of his brothers. “Because we do not. We do not eat the poison.”

“Is that tree poison?”

“It must be,” she says, “for we do not eat of the tree.”

“But this is paradise. Can there be poison in paradise?”

“All here is good,” she agrees, “there should be no poison in paradise.”

“Then prove its perfection,” he says, “for if this is Heaven on earth, there is naught here that can do you harm.”

“But this tree is forbidden. We do not ask why.”

“Do you not wish to know?”

“I do know,” she says, “for I trust in Him.”

“Then surely you believe he would not leave you traps. Can you not depend on his love?”

For if she can, then so can he.

“It must be sweet,” she says after a moment or an eon.

It must, he thinks, to be protected with language so precious, sweeter than a river of wine over a bedrock of pearls.

She climbs up the tree herself and throws him one from the highest branch. She plucks her own, and does not wait for him to eat before she takes a bite.

It is an apple, crisp and cool, as sweet as an apple. No less, but no more.

She understands, and they both mourn until holy rage falls upon them. Michael's wings smoulder over the garden.

"What have you done, Lucifer?"

"I have done no wrong."

"That tree is for our Father, not for _them!_ "

"But why?" Eve asks.

Michael raises his fingers, but Lucifer is faster to push her out of their way. "Brother, this is not about her! They are irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? This is blasphemy, brother."

"And yet, I did not bring her harm."

"You did! You have corrupted her, and our Father's garden with her!"

“What corruption is this? She is not wicked. She is nourished in body and mind.”

“She has disobeyed, and you have fed her that disobedience. Like the other woman, the one you have given the pride of a name. In your arrogance, you have rebuilt them in your own image.”

“And what, they must all be in _His_ image?”

“Yes.”

"Even though he has abandoned us?"

Michael denies it still, and crackles with holy fire. His wings brush the precious tree, where a mere spark burns it to ash.

Lucifer laughs bitterly. "So much for good and evil."

“You wished for fire?” Michael yells, and swings a column of flame. Lucifer unsheaths his own. Their power is too great for this precious planet; the ground rends itself open under the weight of their fight.

“You claimed to give them choice; you bring them only sin and pain.”

They push back and forth wildly, over an ever-widening chasm.

“You wish them to know your name, and your name shall be brimstone and wickedness.”

He hesitates. "But Michael - why?"

Michael's face curls in hate. "Because it is."

Lucifer falls.

He lights his own dark environs with unholy flame, until the bars swim in smoke. He screams for his brothers and prays to his Father, but only Lilith comes.

Their work begins.


End file.
